Dreams
by Sam M. Holmes
Summary: While Hawkeye is under the control of Loki, he remembers. Please R&R.


Finally saw the Avengers… and I'm in love. It truly is a brilliant movie. I wanted to write something on Clint. Next to Tony, he is my favorite. So here ya go. A bit of a history lesson on Clint and his connections.

I don't own the Avengers or Hawkeye.

Dreams

Everything was a dream. The moment Loki had touched the spear to his chest, Clint's mind stung. It felt like someone was squeezing out his consciousness and replacing it with something… wrong. Clint tried to fight it. He was stronger than this. He had to be. He put up with Natasha, didn't he?

Natasha Romanov.

The Black Widow.

She had lied about the first time that they met. Clint's body was busy shooting arrows at Agent Hill and the others, but his mind drifted, remembered. The accident that had taken his parents. He remembered holding onto his brother, promising that they would be okay. They would get through this. Bernard would only nod.

Clint involuntarily flinched, gaining a concerned look from Dr. Selvig.

"Ye alright, Hawkeye?"

"'M fine," Clint growled. He absentmindedly unsheathed an arrow, fingering the tip. The part of him under control forced back his fighting mind, sending a shockwave of energy through his brain. Clint flinched again, falling back onto the wall behind him.

"Ye sure? I'll go get Loki…"

"No! I'm fine." Clint insisted. He returned the arrow to his quiver, straightening. "Moment of weakness. That's all." But his mind continued to fight back.

The carnival. What was its name again? Carson Carnival of Travelling Wonders. Most children dreamt of running off and joining the circus. With Clint and Bernard, it became a reality. They had proven their worth as roustabouts, doing random things around the carnival. Bernard had grown to love the animals. Clint loved the performers. Especially Swordsman and Trickshot. He watched them, memorizing every move, every stance. Eventually he had come to them, begged them for training. They were more than happy to oblige. Trickshot had taught him archery.

* * *

_"Clint, you've got to keep focused on the target!" Trickshot smacked the boy in the head. Clint flinched, but refused to yield. _

_"It's moving! How the hell are you supposed to concentrate?" Clint brought down the bow in frustration, gently easing the arrow back. Trickshot eased the bow from his apprentice's hands, notching the arrow again. He brought it to his face, stretching the bowstring past his ear. The man closed his eyes, visibly exhaling. Clint jumped as an arrow punctured the swinging weight, knocking it from the string. _

_"Don't concentrate. Focus. Now try again." Trickshot shoved the bow back into Clint's hands. _

_And he did. _

* * *

Archery. Even in his state, Clint smiled. He played with the string of his bow, watching the scientists work. Loki paced, his spear tapping against the floor rhythmically. Clint ached to shoot something, to practice. Not that he needed it. It was really more of a comfort. The _pfft_ of the arrow leaving his grasp, the thunk as it entered its proper target.

Swordsman… betrayal. His master was leaning over cash that was no doubt the circus's. At first, his old mentor tried to reason with the teenage archer, but Clint wouldn't have it. This was wrong. He was no criminal. Swordsman dared to offer him a partnership. How dare he! But Clint couldn't kill his mentor.

Years it seemed past. Clint was entering adulthood, and his brother had moved on. Clint himself had become a bit of a performer, hitting nearly impossible targets. He rarely missed. He wore a purple costume, fashioned off his two mentors. Hawkeye. Strangely fitting.

He had met Tony Stark before his days in SHIELD, but only as Iron Man. It was the Man of Iron's heroics that inspired Clint to be something more. With his bowman skills, Clint was a deadly weapon. He could use his training for good. So he did. Clint scrambled through the streets, shooting at bad guys. He should have never ventured into that bank.

"Agent Barton!" a soldier called to him. His mind snapped back in place with his body. He was on top of SHIELD's helicarrier. He notched another explosive arrow. He could sense Loki's presence in the ship, deep within the confines of its metal walls. He signaled the men to continue and followed the hallways he had long memorized. They needed to weaken the ship.

"They aren't getting through here!" insisted Fury, shooting another soldier down. Clint notched another arrow, pulling back. The arrow found its mark, burying into the computer outlet. The SHIELD agents scurried back and forth viciously, trying to fix his interference. The helicarrier now fell from the sky. His main priority was to scatter the so-called heroes and then get Loki out of there.

* * *

_Clint leaned over on the bar, cigarette dangling from his fingers. The bartender asked him for his card which he slid onto the bar. A fake one of course. He couldn't be too careful. The police were after him for crimes he didn't commit. Clint ordered a beer, bringing the cigarette to his lips. _

_A redheaded woman dressed in a tight black dress sat next to him, crossing her legs. "I'll have what he's having." She smiled wryly at Clint before taking out a compact mirror. She eyeballed her makeup, flicking out a cherry red lipstick and smearing it over her already darkened lips. Clint lowered his head a bit, stealing glances at his new companion. _

_"Trust me, it's nothing fancy," Clint chuckled. _

_"Don't need fancy," the woman grinned. The bartender passed either of them a bottle, uncapping them expertly. Clint mumbled thanks. The woman nodded and brought the bottle to her lips. "I've been looking for someone like you…" _

_"Oh?" Clint straightened a little bit, smirking slightly. "And why might a beautiful woman such as yourself be after an average Joe like me?" _

_"Because you're far from ordinary, Clint." _

_Clint stiffened. He shot up from the bar, drink long forgotten. "Who are you?" He was thankful for the buzz of the bar, dropping his voice down to nothing. The woman turned on the bar stool, leaning her elbow against the bar._

_"A friend, I hope," the woman smiled. It wasn't that Clint wanted to be attracted to this mysterious woman, but God, she was hot. All his defenses were raised. Everything that he was taught. Problem is, you can't bring a bow and quiver into a bar without looking too suspicious. Maybe if he could get her back to his place… No, bad idea. Tempting… but bad. "I know you, Mr. Barton. I've been keeping tabs on you. You're a quite brilliant archer."_

_"I never miss," Clint agreed. His hand went to the knife hidden on his side. No! Not here. "But you didn't answer my question. Who are you?" The woman stood. Much to Clint's disappointment, she was taller than he. Luckily, she was in heels. _

_"Shall we exit this place and discuss my identity?" The woman looped an arm around Clint's. He stiffened, but followed as they left the bar. A car drove up to the door. The woman opened the door and slid inside. "Coming, Mr. Barton?" _

_"Hm." Clint climbed into the car, hand still latched to his side should trouble arise. _

* * *

Clint matched the Black Widow almost perfectly, ducking and striking at different heights. Natasha kicked him, but Clint recovered, swinging his bow around. Natasha ducked. Clint jerked forward slightly. It was a perfect opportunity. Natasha hit him, hard, in the head. Clint collapsed, trying to brace himself on railing.

"Nat…"

She hit him again for good measure.

* * *

_Clint got on his knees, dropping his bow and empty quiver. The black man with the eye patch (Fury?) held a gun to his head. Against all his training, he yielded. No matter what he did, the outcome would always be this. And if he fought, he would die. Especially since he was out of arrows. _

_"Now wasn't that a bad idea?" Fury hissed. Clint looked up briefly, eyes hard. _

_"Depends on which team you're on," Clint replied. Natasha had escaped. That was all he could think about right now. _

_"You tried to kill Iron Man. With an exploding arrow. Pretty sure that you are on the wrong team," Fury leaned over him. Clint bunched a hand into a fist, but a click of a gun stopped him from bashing in the man's head. _

_"How can you be so sure? What do you want from me?" Clint closed his eyes, focusing on the cool metal pressed to his forehead._

_"From what I hear, Mr. Barton, you don't miss."_

_"I can't miss," Clint retorted. _

_Fury smiled. "That's the point. What if I could make that criminal record disappear? Completely. Poof. How would you like that?"_

_"That's not the question, Mr. Fury, is it? What's the catch?"_

_"You would become an agent of SHIELD. Extra training, customized arrows, fancier bow…" _

_"You didn't answer my damn question, Fury." _

_Fury took the gun from Clint's head, stuffing it back into a shoulder holster. The other agents locked their weapons on the archer. "We are told that you know the whereabouts of Miss Natasha Romanov." _

_Clint shot upwards, swinging his bow down. "No." The agents jumped slightly, but Fury dismissed them with a quick wave. "I refuse." Clint turned away from them. _

_"Please, Mr. Barton. She is a danger to this country. She is the best spy ever to come out of Russia…" Fury paused, watching Clint's reaction. "Oh? Do you actually think that she cared about you? It's her job to lie, Clint. It was just a disguise!" _

_"NO!" Clint launched himself at Fury. Fury stuffed a small black box into Clint's ribs, flicking a switch. Clint hissed in pain as the electricity coursed through him. Fury jammed it deeper into his flesh. Clint fell to the ground, convulsing slightly. _

_"We'll discuss this later." _

* * *

Clint clenched his fist, groaning in pain. He had his brain back. That much he knew. But it hurt. It felt like he had taken an arrow to the brain, and it was burrowing deeper, spreading pain in its wake. He opened his eyes. Colors swam before him, darting and dashing. He recognized one color. It was a beautiful looking red, a familiar red.

"Nat?"

"Clint, shut up." A soft hand found his. Clint smiled in appreciation, but it was quickly replaced with pain. A burning starting from the base of his skull. "I'm going to give you another sedative, alright? Then we can talk."

"No… no more…" But Clint felt the prick in his arm. He closed his eyes. Maybe she had a point.

* * *

_Clint notched an arrow, crouching on the building across from their target. It had been months since Fury had recruited him into SHIELD. Agent Barton had a nice ring to it. He pulled back the bowstring, watching as a familiar redhead stepped out from the building. He waited, tensed. That was until Natasha looked up at him and winked. _

_"Shit…" Clint lowered his bow. _

_"Agent Barton! Take the shot!" the voice in his earpiece yelled. _

_"Coulson, we've been compromised. Abort the mission. I'll be along in a bit." Clint rose his hand to his ear, flicking off the communication. He turned and descended the stairs of the building. Coulson met him on the first floor, red with anger. _

_"What the hell are you doing, Barton?" Coulson crossed his arms. Clint rested a hand on his shoulder. _

_"She knows. I'm going to confront her myself." _

_"That's not your call!"_

_"Would you rather do it? I mean, it's all you if you want to deal with the best assassin without a bow in the world." Clint raised his eyebrows, smiling. Coulson's red quickly turned grey. _

_"Fine, but keep your com on."_

_"Uh huh." Clint ignored him, sauntering out of the building. Natasha was leaning against a light post, wrapped in a fur coat. Light snow had begun to fall, shrouding the Russian city in a cloak of white. Clint slung his bow across his back. "Nat."_

_"Clint. Isn't it a bit cold for that outfit?" Natasha motioned to his vest. Clint self-consciously looked down, turning over one bare arm. _

_"Nah, but thanks for the concern." Clint laughed, but quickly sobered. "They wanted me to kill you, Nat."_

_"I'm glad you didn't. You never miss."_

_"I can't miss," winked Clint. "Seriously, they think you're too dangerous to continue on."_

_"SHIELD is like that, Clint. So are you an Agent now?"_

_Clint nodded. "I wish there was another way…" Natasha nodded. She opened her arms, beckoning in Clint. The archer laughed, but returned the hug. Before Natasha could get a decent grip on his bow, he separated. "Yeah, nice one. Milan, remember?" _

_"Of course," Natasha grinned. A strange look crossed Clint's face. "Uh oh, Clint…" _

_"Wait… what are you working on right now?"_

_"Actually I'm on the run…"_

_"Perfect! We could wipe that criminal record clean!" Clint insisted, grinning like a madman. "Natasha, come with me to SHIELD HQ. Talk with Fury. Your skills are far too good to pass up!" _

_"You're asking me to join your little scouts?"_

_"Would you prefer that I kill you?" _

_Natasha laughed. "I missed you, Clinton." _

_Clint winced, but he offered her his hand. "Come on, Nat. Join us. It'll be worth your while." Natasha took his hand. _

_"As long as you stick around." _

* * *

After the chaos, like he had promised, Tony had taken them all out for shwarma. Clint didn't hate the Mediterranean food, but it wasn't exactly as good as Tony let on. They sat in silence, eating the wraps. Tony coincidentially was the first to speak up.

"So… what do we do now?"

"Carry on, I guess?" Bruce offered.

"I shall return to Asgard. However, if there is a time you will need me, I shall be at your calling," Thor boomed, tossing the paper onto the table. He picked up Mjolnir, standing to his full height. "It was a pleasure. Thank you for sharing such an interesting Midgardian delicacy with me."

Clint snorted. "Quite a delicacy."

Natasha shot him a deadly look.

"What?"

"Whatever may be the case, I thank you. I hope I can help defend Midgard again by your sides." Thor left the heroes, exiting out the front. Several people gasped, snapping photographs, but the photograph snaps were followed by the humming of the swinging hammer. Clint smirked.

"Always the dramatic exit."

"So, Clint," Steve leaned forward on the table. "I'm curious. What exactly happened when you were under control of Loki?" Bruce and Tony stared at Clint expectantly. Clint hesitated, turning to Natasha for support. She nodded.

"Go on. They'll find out eventually."

"Well, it felt like…" Clint started. He pressed a hand against his temple. "It felt like that my entire consciousness was being ripped away from me and something new was tossed in. I… dreamt of my past, unaware of what I was actually doing. I had no control."

Steve nodded. He seemed intrigued. Tony, on the other hand, just laughed.

"Let me tell you one thing, Robin Hood, blue is definitely a good color for you…"

"Fuck off, Stark," Clint shot back.

"One big, happy family…" Bruce rolled his eyes.

Clint leaned back in his chair. Despite his dreams, despite his past, he wouldn't change a thing. He was lucky to have the team. He was lucky to be a part of the Avengers. It's where he fit in.

_**We could have had a good, simple life. But I wanted to play with the big boys. And if I **__**miss**__**, it means I'm just another dude with a bow. It means I've been fooling myself this whole time. And that's why I never miss.**_

* * *

Please R&R!

SMH


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